ifornia 

onal 

ity 


Ex  Libris 
C.  K.  OGDEN 


^/      /  ^ 


Gbe  flDofcern  Weefc  of  tbe  flfceaL 


Hn 


Delivered  at  tbe  Seventh  Bnnual  Salon  of  tbe 

Moman'8  Xiterarp  Club  of  Baltimore 

June  tbe  2nO,  1896. 

3B%  tbe  prceibcnt 

.  %awrence  TTurntwll. 


publisbeD  b«  Vote  of  tbe  Club. 


BALTIMORE 


Nor  knowest  thou  what  argument 

Thy  life  to  thy  neighbor ' s  creed  hath  lent. 

All  are  needed  by  each  one  ; 

Nothing  is  fair  or  good  alone. 

— Emerson. 


2000498 


AS  the  time  drew  near  for  this  anniversary  address, 
which  it  has  been  your  wont  to  claim  and  my  privi- 
lege to  give  before  you,  the  question  naturally  arose  in  my 
mind  as  to  what  part  your  leader  should  now  hold  in  the 
literary  working  of  an  association  so  successfully  special- 
ized into  interested  groups,  under  capable  chairmen,  and 
working  with  enthusiasm  in  the  precise  lines  for  which  we 
have  been  striving  during  the  years  of  our  membership. 
But — dwelling  upon  the  question — it  becomes  quite  plain 
that  the  more  we  specialize  the  more  is  it  necessary  that  a 
strong  central  aim  should  weave  a  harmony  from  the  work 


of  the  several  groups,  if  we  would  win  an  influence  equal 
to  the  full  force  of  the  whole.  Otherwise,  the  whole  will 
not  be  more  than  the  parts. 

Constantly,  then — as  bjf  our  stronger  work  we  deserve  a 
stronger  influence — should  we  remind  ourselves  of  the 
central,  informing  spirit  that  should  produce  this  unity. 

What  is  this  spirit,  or  atmosphere?  Is  it  wholly  one 
of  investigation  in  the  various  lines  that  attract  us,  to  the 
end  of  more  accurate  knowledge  only?  Then  why  a 
Woman's  Club,  with  its  few  hours  and  its  handful  of  stu- 
dents, dealing  with  specialties  for  which  universities  are 
far  better  equipped  ? 

Does  our  title  hold  any  hint  that  we  are  to  strive  tacitly, 
if  not  specifically,  for  some  special  good  to  woman  in  our 
literary  work — that  we  are,  in  some  sense,  to  uphold  those 
qualities  which  are  essentially  womanly — not  necessarily 
attributes  of  women  only,  nor  sought  for  as  differentiating 
them  from  men — but  that  we  are  to  emphasize,  as  oppor- 
tunity may  offer  here,  those  gifts  and  qualities  which  con- 
duce to  a  nobler  womanhood  ?  SURELY. 

Then,  as  a  Woman's  Literary  Club,  this  purpose  should 
fix  our  point  of  view  in  our  contact  with  Literature. 

6 


From  this  point  of  view  the  question  broadens  at  once, 
touching  vital  interests,  clearing  space  for  everything  that  is 
strong  and  beautiful  and  true;  for  we  will  not  give  up  the 
claim  that  woman's  part  in  life  should  be  the  Ideal  or  Spirit- 
ual— however  darkly  these  Nineteenth  Century  influences 
hint  of  lower  standards  for  the  ideal  life  by  exalting  the 
practical  beyond  its  due,  by  urging  that  an  advance  is  made 
in  the  nobility  of  life  and  the  greatness  of  woman's  sphere 
when  she  holds  a  larger  part  in  its  material  on-goings,  by 
daring  to  assume  that  the  material  suffices  for  the  higher 
good  and  that  all  questionings  may  be  satisfied  by  scientific 
investigations. 

Hence  Realism — as  the  perfect  in  art  ! 

Hence  doctrines  of  Work  and  Equality — as  solving  our 
social  problems  ! 

Hence  Science — as  the  solution  or  annihilation  of  Faith  ! 

Hence  Philology  in  Literature — with  its  conclusions,  so 
patiently  wrought  for,  so  cold  in  returns  of  beauty,  instead 
of  the  vitalizing  study  of  the  soul  of  poetry ! 

But  if  these  are  the  darker  hints  of  a  time  full  of  great 
possibilities,  all  the  more  should  the  influence  of  woman  be 

7 


exerted  upon  the  ideal  side;  all  the  more  should  shejealously 
claim  and  fill  her  part  in  life — for  never  was  it  more  needed, 
more  strenuously  marked  out  for  her,  and  by  these  very 
causes. 

We  have  found,  then,  a  definite  point  of  view  from 
which  to  approach  Literature.  Let  us  call  it  The  Modern 
Need  of  the  Ideal.  It  should  fashion  our  standards,  deter- 
mine our  criticisms,  and  color  our  writings. 

In  the  statements  just  made  our  quarrel  is,  of  course, 
only  with  the  overdue  claims  of  Realism,  or  Work,  or 
Equality,  or  Science,  to  its  share  of  power  in  coping  with 
the  problems  of  life;  and  those  who  hold  these  doctrines, 
as  stated,  miss  the  larger  views.  The  catholic  spirit  grants 
the  necessity  of  a  faultless  technique  in  perfect  art,  but  this 
is  often  the  only  claim  of  the  realist. 

The  catholic  spirit  holds  each  faithful  worker  in  honor, 
wherever  his  work  may  be;  it  acknowledges  all  possibilities 
of  equality,  none  the  less  because,  with  its  higher  ideals,  it 
recognizes  also  the  value  of  the  greater  gifts  that  come  to 
the  few  in  the  elevation  and  well-being  of  the  race — a  good 
undreamed  of  on  the  lower  plane. 

8 


The  catholic  spirit  reverently  yields  a  large  domain  to 
Science,  accepting  as  absolute  its  proof,  reserving  only 
things  spiritual  as  beyond  its  province.  It  is  the  scientist 
alone,  in  his  supremest  claim,  who  asserts  that  nothing  is 
which  is  not  susceptible  of  his  demonstration. 

In  speaking  of  what  he  terms  the  "personal  equation 
of  the  age,"  a  knowledge  of  which  he  considers  necessary 
to  those  who  are  striving  for  influence,  Dr.  van  Dyke  tells 
us  that  one  of  the  best  means  of  obtaining  this  knowledge 
it  through  literature,  "not  that  highly  specialized  and  more 
or  less  technical  variety  of  literature  which  is  produced 
expressly  for  certain  classes  of  readers,  but  literature  in  its 
broader  sense,  as  it  appeals  to  cultivated  and  intelligent 
people  in  general,  including  contemporary  poetry  and 
fiction,  popular  philosophy  and  diluted  science.  This  kind 
of  literature  is  the  efflorescence  of  the  Zeitgeist.  It  is  at 
once  a  product  and  a  cause  of  the  temperament  of  the 
age."  (Dr.  van  Dyke,  in  First  Yale  Lecture.} 

Realizing  the  enormous  power  of  this  "literature  in  its 
broader  sense,"  it  seems  a  small  thing  to  ask  that  women — 
the  women  of  any  association — should  stand  for  the  things 

9 


that  make  for  beauty — should  cast  all  their  influence  upon 
the  side  of  that  which  is  sane  and  stimulating,  which  will 
foster  beauty  and  strength  and  innocent  pleasure — should 
confess  to  this  Modern  Need  of  the  Ideal. 

But  this  involves  firm  convictions,  a  reliance  upon  one's 
own  judgment,  with  determination  to  abide  by  it ;  it  leads 
away  from  popularity.  We  are  instantly  conscious  of  the 
spirit  of  the  age. 

There  are  fads  and  critics  and  favorites ;  there  is  the 
scoff  at  the  emotional,  with  the  lack  of  reverence  that 
makes  it  brave  to  speak  of  beautiful  things.  There  is  the 
slow  fading  of  some  sweet  traditions  and  the  incoming  of 
another  code  for  women  ;  above  all,  there  is  a  loud  voicing 
of  some  theories  which  are  not  beautiful,  through  noise  of 
which  the  gentler  tones  are  scarcely  audible.  There  is  the 
restless  craving  of  the  age  for  popularity,  which  often 
makes  cold  listeners  of  our  friends,  while — quite  uncon- 
sciously perhaps — the  restlessness  frets  our  judgments  and 
tempts  us  to  approve  less  than  the  best. 

But  a  little  courage  will  marvelously  clear  our  vision. 
Standards  and  ideals  belong  to  the  higher  or  spiritual  side 

10 


of  life,  where  best  is  best,  without  time  or  fashion.  All 
gifts  and  qualities  of  womanhood  that  have  ever  been  truly 
good  are  good  still,  however  superseded  by  the  newer 
mode.  All  literature  and  art  that  have  ever  been  actually 
beautiful  are  beautiful  still.  Every  artist  of  the  past  who 
has  truly  lived  his  art  life  is  living  still — in  that  great  Now 
which  holds  only  immortal  names — and  his  work,  in  some 
measure,  however  little,  has  added  a  deathless  stroke  to  our 
wealth  of  garnered  beauty.  But  all  artistic  work  must  be 
estimated  in  its  own  atmosphere  to  yield  its  full  meaning — 
an  interpretation  impossible  except  to  liberal  culture — and 
these  scattered  elements  of  beauty  must  be  conserved, 
from  age  to  age,  that  ideals  may  grow  with  the  develop- 
ment of  the  race. 

"Literature  in  its  noblest  form  is  one  vast  monument 
to  the  worth  of  human  life  ;  indeed,  interest  in  life  and  rev- 
erence for  it  lie  at  the  heart  of  exalted  genius.  Without 
them  the  noblest  work  would  be  impossible,"  says  Dr. 
Gordon.  "In  the  reverent  love  of  these  unfathomable 
meanings  literature  works,  and  this  homage  of  literature  to 
life  is  a  supreme  attestation  to  the  worth  of  human  exist- 

ii 


ence."  And  again  :  "The  facts  of  human  life  are  symbols. 
For  unloving  eyes  they  have  no  meaning,  or  only  a  slight 
one;  but  for  the  inspired  heart  they  shine  with  celestial 
significance." 

We  need  not  seek  to  multiply  such  pleas  for  the  treas- 
uring of  the  ideal  in  our  literary  associations  ;  we  know  that 
it  is  by  our  attitude  rather  than  by  our  attainment  in  any 
department  that  we  may  hope  to  make  ourselves  felt.  In 
literature,  as  in  life,  this  should  be  the  woman's  province, 
and  we  may  be  sure  that  in  this  day  of  progress  this  note 
of  freshness,  of  warmth,  of  spiritual  charm,  is  a  distinct 
need.  Though  the  minds  are  strong  and  many  which  assume 
that  the  modern  world  has  reached  by  positive  paths  beyond 
this  need,  it  is  not  true :  and  those  who  make  this  assump- 
tion only  do  not  realize  its  falseness  because  they  have  not 
yet  reached  the  higher  plane  of  thought :  they  think  they 
have  no  need  of  Idealism  because  they  have  not  attained  to, 
nor  comprehended  it ;  but  idealists  know  that  they  need 
Realism,  because  they  have  gone  beyond  and  included  it  in 
their  attainment,  and  theirs  is  the  broader  platform.  We 
may  go  further,  taking  Realism  and  Idealism  as  attitudes, 


not  only  in  literature  and  all  the  fine  arts,  but  in  life — and 
we  shall  see  how,  in  this  ceaseless  contest  between  the  old 
and  the  new,  which  just  at  this  time  shapes  itself  so  definitely 
in  the  question  of  the  woman  of  to-day  versus  the  woman 
of  the  past,  it  is  the  fear  of  losing  this  attitude  of  idealism 
which  makes  strong  men  bitter  against  modern  progress  for 
the  women  of  their  homes.  They  are  not  afraid  of  more 
strength,  physical,  or  intellectual,  of  more  knowledge,  of  a 
more  complete  development — they  do  not  grudge  them  any 
grace,  or  gladness:  but  the  displacement  of  grace  by  knowl- 
edge would  make  the  hearth  less  charming,  and  it  is  for 
those  who  care  for  progress  in  its  truest  and  broadest  sense 
to  keep  the  fireside  a  sanctuary  of  ideals.  And  that  men 
may  not  look  back,  nor  down  upon  ideals,  ideals  must  grow, 
both  in  breadth  and  beauty,  to  keep  pace  with  our  swiftly 
advancing  age:  and  growth  is  the  test  of  their  vitality  and 
sufficiency. 

The  idealist  can  have  no  issue  with  those  who  plead  for 
the  precision  of  method,  the  carefulness  of  study  which 
Realism  has  introduced  into  Art.  The  value  of  these  things 
cannot  be  overestimated;  for  it  must  be  confessed  that  a 

13 


certain  slovenliness  and  inadequacy  have  too  often  been 
faults  of  the  ideal  and  spiritual  school — in  art  as  in  thought. 
This  is,  doubtless,  one  reason  why  the  productions  of  the 
ideal  school  have  not  always  carried  the  weight  to  which 
their  matter  entitles  them.  It  will  continue  to  be  so — in- 
creasingly, according  to  the  more  definite  methods,  intel- 
lectual and  scientific,  which  keep  pace  with  the  rapid  develop- 
ment of  our  age — unless  the  fact  is  recognized  by  those  who 
assert  that  Idealism  is  higher  than  Realism;  and  unless  they 
also  make  themselves  artists  in  the  lower  plane,  that  they 
may  perfectly  set  forth  the  higher  phase.  All  the  more 
because  of  the  subtlety  and  elusiveness  of  their  ideal,  they 
must  master  definite  methods  of  technique — submitting  here 
to  the  most  searching  criticism — so  perfect  should  be  the 
art  that  may  adequately  suggest  a  spiritual  conception. 
But  in  every  ideal  conception,  where  there  is  also  trained 
artistic  judgment  with  mastery  of  definite  methods,  the 
artist  will  inevitably  reject  certain  hardnesses  of  manner 
which  produce  an  inartistic  obviousness,  and  a  style  of  his 
own  will  result — original  without  affectation,  if  his  thought  be 
original — simple  and  adequate,  in  measure  to  his  nearness 

14 


to  true  art,  and  endowed  with  life  in  that  proportion.  This 
ideal  style  will  belong  to  no  special  age,  but  to  art  in  every 
age;  and,  growing  out  of  its  theme,  will  be  always  fresh, 
having  distinction  in  treatment. 

There  is  an  attempt  among  modern  writers  to  give 
to  Realism  an  interpretation  which  changes  its  very  essence, 
which  seems  to  me  an  unfair  use  of  words — an  attempt  which 
has  doubtless  been  made  because  Realism  ranks  so  high  in 
the  artistic  world,  that  no  word-artist  can  afford  to  grant  it 
less  than  it  deserves.  But,  if  we  would  be  artists  in  words, 
we  also  must  strenuously  insist  upon  meanings;  and  we  are 
justified  in  saying  that  Realism  and  Idealism  are,  in  their 
very  natures,  opposite — the  one  being  a  presentation  of 
things  seen,  the  other  an  interpretation  of  things  unseen. 
The  greater — the  Spiritual — may  include  the  lesser — the 
Real — in  its  service  of  interpretation,  as  one  climbs  by  a  visi- 
ble pathway  to  invisible  heights  ;  but  Realism  ceases  to  be 
Realism,  in  spirit,  when  it  assumes  the  spiritual  and  climbs 
to  its  interpretation,  while  an  idealist  can  never  be  satisfied 
with  any  presentation  of  life  that  does  not  take  cognizance 
of  its  higher  and  immortal  side. 

15 


So  sentences  like  the  following,  which  I  quote  from  a 
widely  read  volume  that  has  been  issued  during  the  past 
year — a  book  very  noble  in  its  trend — must  lead  to  confu- 
sion or  unfairness  of  thought. 

"  In  its  highest  demands  this  Realism  would  insist  upon 
the  spiritual  genesis  of  all  artistic  representation — upon  their 
faithfulness  to  an  everlasting  type,  upon  their  sincerity  and 
spontaneity,  and  upon  their  vital  sympathy  and  humor,  so 
that  they  shall,  like  all  Nature's  growths,  have  the  warmth 
of  the  sunshine  and  the  freshness  of  the  dew.  While  hold- 
ing to  reality,  these  representations  transcend  not  only  all 
mental  anticipation,  but  the  real  suggestion,  having,  like 
all  unfoldings  of  Nature,  aspiration,  culmination,  and,  as  a 
final  issue,  surprises."  (God in  His  World.) 

To  condense  such  a  claim  in  the  fewest  words,  it  is  sim- 
ply putting  Realism  for  truth — which  is  misleading ;  for 
although  truth  is  the  most  important  factor,  both  in  the  visi- 
ble and  the  invisible  world,  yet,  wherever  there  is  a  spirit- 
ual truth  shadowed  forth  by  a  visible  presentation,  Realism 
alone  will  miss  the  subtle  glory,  while  wondering  that  we 
ask  for  more  than  the  substance  which  it  has  presented. 

16 


In  a  quaint  old  village  church,  on  the  banks  of  the  Avon, 
dear  to  literature,  there  is  a  rude  effigy  which  stands  for  the 
portrait  of  our  great  "  Master  Will."  It  is  a  face  so  singu- 
larly free  from  any  trace  of  emotion  or  thought,  that  it  would 
seem  impossible  for  any  artist  to  compass  such  a  feat  with 
any  presentation  of  human  lineaments.  It  is  true  that  its 
artistic  quality  is  not  of  the  highest,  so  it  would  be  unfair  to 
take  it  as  an  example  of  Realism  in  its  extremest  sense,  yet 
it  might  serve  for  an  illustration,  for  memories  come  throng- 
ing of  pictures  and  images  at  far  more  rudimentary  stages 
of  development — on  the  walls  of  the  catacombs,  or  in  ruined 
heathen  temples  before  the  Christian  Era,  which  were 
often  so  crude  as  to  be  fairly  grotesque,  yet  where  there 
was  always  some  emotional  suggestion,  however  faint  or 
unpleasant.  But  to  find  at  the  shrine  of  the  Bard  of  Avon, 
keeping  watch  over  the  grave  of  the  man  who  rules  the  in- 
tellectual world  with  growing  empire,  this  image  of  a 
countenance  more  inscrutable  than  that  of  any  Sphynx — not 
as  of  intention,  but  as  guiltless  of  all  thought  or  emotion — 
it  was  a  very  travesty  on  Realism  and  we  could  not  accept 
it  as  Shakespeare's  face. 

17 


Like  realism,  too,  it  suggested  the  thought  that  to  those 
ruder  images  one  might  forgive  grotesqueness  and  inade- 
quacy, because  of  the  limitation  of  power,  since  their  art, 
though  only  nascent,  displayed  a  feeling  after  an  ideal,  how- 
ever imperfect.  But  the  face  of  the  soulless  man  brought 
weird  and  terrible  suggestions — as  of  power,  self-limited, 
below  the  attainable  best:  as  of  one  who  denied  that  man 
was  more  than  an  image  and  would  place  form  higher  than 
soul. 

What  are  the  signs  of  the  day  ? 

There  has  never  been  a  time  so  fruitful  in  advances  that 
make  for  man's  material  and  moral  welfare.  In  great  dis- 
coveries; in  multiplication  of  charities  and  the  wide  study 
of  philanthropy  as  a  science;  in  the  increase  of  schools  of 
learning  and  the  sifting  of  knowledge,  downward,  through 
the  masses;  in  freedom  of  discussions;  in  the  extension  of 
books  and  art;  in  sanitary  progress;  in  comforts  and  luxu- 
ries scattered  in  the  homes  of  the  lower  classes,  with  privi- 
leges of  education  and  relaxation  that  never  before  existed : 
a  generosity  of  endowments  overcoming  the  evils  of  accu- 
mulated wealth;  and  a  blossoming  of  aesthetic  taste  of  which 

the  benefits  are  free. 

18 


But  there  is  also  a  quickening  of  faculty  which  threatens 
to  overdo  itself  and  weaken  our  mental  activities;  a  pres- 
sure of  every  known  force  upon  our  over-strained  life:  the 
time  is  ruled  by  action  rather  than  thought,  and  the  sense 
of  hurry  in  the  air  leaves  scanty  time  for  poetry  and  visions. 
In  reaction  from  the  past,  the  popular  mood  of  learning  is 
for  knowledge  rather  than  culture;  for  tests,  without  emo- 
tions; and  the  tone  of  our  universities  is  more  often  hard 
than  mellow — when  the  great  dreams  of  poets  and  seers 
are  counted  less  worthy  of  study  than  geological  formations 
or  questions  of  philology. 

We  belong  to  the  time  and  are  glad  and  proud  of  its 
greatness.  We  do  not  stand  aside  with  forboding  criticsim, 
but  we  must  use  our  faculty  to  recognize  its  dangers  and 
hopefully  add  our  little  force  to  the  world's  most  beautiful 
and  needed  work — the  treasuring  of  ideals 

We  want  more  faith,  more  hope,  more  beauty — in  the 
sense  of  a  beauty  that  is  holy.  We  want  more  leisure  to 
apprehend  these  things,  wherever  we  find  them;  we  want  a 
larger  application  of  these  visions  to  our  lives;  we  want  a 
quieter  pulse;  we  want  a  larger  trust  in  our  creed,  and 

19 


courage  to  proclaim  it — that  the  best  shall  ultimately  prevail. 

Many  noble  voices  give  us  strong  sanctions  for  this 
hope — and  the  mark  of  the  modern  idealist  is  that  the  light 
upon  the  hills  does  not  blind  his  eyes  to  the  darker  prob- 
lems of  life — his  hope  is  not  apart  from  them,  but  includes 
them  in  his  vision  of  that  ultimate  time — and  already,  in 
many  of  the  arts  the  sign  on  the  horizon  is  of  a  spiritual 
advance. 

Browning  tells  us: 

"  All  we  have  willed  or  hoped,  or  dreamed  of  good  shall  exist; 

Not  its  likeness  but  itself;  no  beauty,  nor  good,  nor  power 
Whose  voice  has  gone  forth,  but  each  survives  for  the  melodist 

When  eternity  affirms  the  conception  of  an  hour. 
The  high  that  proved  too  high,  the  heroic  for  earth  too  hard, 

The  passion  that  left  the  ground  to  lose  itself  in  the  sky, 
Are  music  sent  up  to  God  by  the  lover  and  the  bard, 

Enough  that  He  heard  it  once;  we  shall  hear  it  by  and  by." 

Darwin  counted  it  the  loss  of  his  life,  that  in  the  years 
he  gave  to  his  scientific  researches,  poetry  ceased  to  charm 
him. 

Cayley,  the  great  mathematician,  ranking  first  in  his 
branch  among  the  mathematicians  of  the  world,  and  so 

20 


recognized  by  the  most  important  foreign  associations,  is 
reputed  by  his  devoted,  child-like,  Christian  faith,  to  have 
done  a  nobler  service  for  his  land  and  his  university  than  by 
the  wonderful  scientific  resume  of  the  life-work  that  his 
dying  hand  left  half-achieved. 

Let  me  share  with  you  a  modern  thought  in  this  di- 
rection. "The  freedom  of  a  life  nearer  to  natural  impulse 
than  to  mental  suggestion  is  always  the  hope  of  the 
world.  We  are  forever  over-estimating  the  value  of  in- 
tellectual culture." 

It  is  still  true,  that  unless,  in  a  figurative  sense,  we 
"become  as  little  children,"  we  can  enter  no  paradise  of 
earth  or  heaven.  So  we  must  seek  in  culture  the  spontanei- 
ties of  culture  which  reside  in  poetry,  in  beauty,  in  the 
emotional  parts  of  our  nature — the  child-like,  believing 
spirit.  These  we  must  hold  to,  for  they  are  the  wells  that 
keep  us  strong,  pure,  sane  and  equal  in  the  current  of  the 
rushing,  stimulating,  intellectual  life  of  the  day. 

It  is  the  extraordinary  vigor  of  this  intellectual  pulse 
which  accentuates  the  need  of  this  tranquilizing  ministry  of 
the  ideal:  as  aspiration,  perpetual  youth,  child-likeness, 

21 


belong  to  this  mood.  It  is,  if  you  please,  a  survival  of  the 
dawn  of  life,  when  nature  appeals  to  the  child  with  fantastic 
imagery  and  glow  of  color;  her  moods  are  nearer  to  his  own 
than  in  later  conventional  days,  and  the  simplicity  of  his  re- 
quirements brings  frequent  satisfactions. 

Hence  the  exquisite  joy  some  natures  find  in  the  beauty 
and  glad-heartedness  of  little  children,  with  their  wise  un- 
worldliness,  their  naivete",  their  implicit  trust,  their  un- 
conscious grace,  the  refreshment  and  help  of  their  tender, 
loving  presences — the  greatness  they  often  give  us  sight  of. 

Imagination  belongs  to  youth;  the  force  of  the  creative 
spirit  wanes  with  age.  In  youth,  too,  aspiration  is  more 
stimulating,  though  later,  it  may  become  the  constant  at- 
mosphere of  some  beautiful  soul  who  has  won  calm  out  of 
the  stress  of  living.  But  in  youth  it  is  felt  as  an  impetus, 
while  in  the  rare  cases  of  the  constant  possession,  it  is  to  the 
beholder  as  a  reward  for  faithful  service,  while  the  pos- 
sessor, who  does  not  know  that  it  touches  him  with  glory, 
only  calls  it  "peace."  We  have  never  recognized  this  at- 
tainment in  others  without  realizing  it  also  as  an  inspira- 
tion, and  with  this  rare  temper  there  will  always  be  found 
something  of  the  spirit  of  youth. 


This  treasuring  of  the  ideal  keeps  our  sympathies  warm 
so  that  we  come  in  vital  touch  with  the  true  wherever  we 
find  it.  To  know  a  man  like  Sidney  Lanier,  Professor  Cay- 
ley,  or  Phillips  Brooks,  was  a  revelation  of  these  possibili- 
ties which  could  scarcely  be  understood  without  some  such 
human  exemplification  of  the  beauty  of  living  by  ideals,  as 
these  men  did.  At  once  the  best  in  those  who  surrounded 
so  magnetic  a  centre,  leaped  into  life;  the  presence  was 
instantly  felt  as  inspirational,  the  men  were  so  much  greater 
than  their  words — raising  souls  by  the  largeness  of  their 
own. 


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